Pain  Love  Marching Band
by MusicMistress
Summary: The experience of a lifetime. The adrenaline you get by just marching the show. The pure satisfaction of giving it your all and winning in the end. The strength, power, and inspiration you feel after every practice, run through, show, and competition.
1. It's Finally Here!

-Chapter 1: It's finally here!

Ah, the first day of band camp. There is no other feeling like getting up knowing you might collapse, black out, get heat stroke, or puke in a just a few short hours. But those are the little details I try not to pay attention to. I hop out of bed with a jubilant look on my face, excited to get to band camp. I put on my shorts, shirt, slip on my marching sneakers, and adjust my visor to my head. I grab a few granola bars to hold me over until lunch, I fill my water jug with as much water as I can fit in in, then drench my body in sun screen spray. I'm pretty much ready at this point so I rush out the door, my mom waiting for me in the car.

As I arrive at the school, I see a ocean on kids flooding into the band hall. We are getting about 270+ kids this year so I can't say I'm used to seeing all these people. I kiss mother goodbye, grab my trumpet, water, and lunch and walk towards the band hall. As always, I see my good friend Ian there holding the door open for everyone coming in or out. "Hey Ian! Ready for band?" I ask. "Not at the least Sean." Ian replies. I don't blame him though. I haven't worked out all that much either. I am completely out of shape, but I speak for half of the band when I say that. I walk into the air conditioned band hall, a nice 70 degrees cold breeze blowing on me. Nothing has changed, just the way I always remembered it... Chreste in his office with the door wide open blasting his stereo, so everyone can hear 'ghost busters' playing... Spicer in his office with the door closed chatting away with all the top band players and seemingly popular people. Wessels prowling around, scanning the area for any rude or unacceptable conduct. The percussion directors running around everywhere trying to get everything set up in time, cause they lost a base drum, or they cant find a mallet. It makes me happy inside seeing and hearing all this hustle and bustle. I make my over to the stand racks and set my stuff down next to my friends instruments. Then all of a sudden Spicer comes on the intercom from his office... "START HEADING OUT! EVERYONE HAS TO BE ON THE FIELD IN 5 MINUTES!!!" booms Spicer's voice from his intercom. Not having much time to relax or rest, I pick up my instrument and water and meet up with Ian while heading out. The freshman, not really knowing whats going on, are running around like a chinese fire drill trying to figure where they're going, whats happening, and what they're supposed to be doing.

As the ocean of 270 kids stand on the grass near the blacktop, Spicer comes running out with a large megaphone in his hands, and a headset with a microphone resting atop his cranium. Our section leaders assign us our dots of where we are to stand during fundamentals and warm-up, and we make our way to the field. Freshman stand around clueless, wondering whats going to happen next. I stare at them from my place thinking, if you thought this was gonna be easy, your in for a most unpleasant, gruesome, terrifying surprise.


	2. God Help Me

The day couldn't have been any hotter. And the fact that the asphalt made it about 10 to 15 degrees hotter didn't help anything. I was already starting to imagine the freshman dropping like flies. Heat stroke was in the air, I could feel it. As I thought to myself that this day couldn't possibly get any hotter, my marching band instructor made his way to the center of the field.

"Goooood Morning, ladies and gentleman! It is a B-E-A-UTIFUL day for marching band!" Spicer declared cheerfully.

I heard moans and groans from an assortment of people around me, apparently not wanting to be here. I smiled cheerfully as Spicer walked past me shooting him an "I'm glad to be here" look. I stood there stiffly as to not draw attention to myself, waiting for further instructions.

"Today, ladies and gentleman, we are going to learn our basic stretches. We wouldn't want to pull anything, so it's an important factor that we stretch every part of our body, because trust me, you will be using it." Spicer's voice boomed over the speakers.

Although I'm always excited for the first day of band camp, I always hate it at the same time because I'm learning things that I already know, and it's quite boring to say the least.

After learning all 10 of our stretches, I could have sworn I stretched out muscles I didn't even know I had. It was finally time for us to move around and about. My feet were screaming inside my sneakers, hotter than the surface of the sun. Our first task was to run from one side of the field to the other. Running is not one of my strong points, so I knew I was going to have some major problems with this. As soon as we started, I could feel the cramps and pain start to creep up from within me. My abdomen started to sting, and my breathing was getting shorter and shorter with every step. I started to slow down, my friends passing me, egging me on to run faster. I knew I was either going to puke or hurt real bad, so I decided not to push myself. I started to walk, putting hops into my steps making it look like I was at least jogging. Praying for the pain to be over, I pushed myself a few more steps, than finally heard Spicers voice scream "STOP!"

My lungs we're on the verge of exploding. Running shouldn't be that much of a fight for survival, but unfortunately, I'm one of the unlucky ones. Thankfully, Spicer gave us a 2 minute water break. Even though I was struggling to catch my breath, once I heard the words 'water break', I made a MAD DASH to my water bottle. Dodging everyone in my way, I zig-zagged through the mob of band kids, and snatched my water bottle, chugging as much as I could without drowning myself in it. Comfort started to sweep through my body again as I regained my breath. I plopped down on the grass, stretching out my back and enjoying the few minutes of relaxation I will ever get for the rest of the day.

I started making conversation with the freshman, asking them how their first day was going. Many of them didn't expect it to be this tough. HA! If they thought this was tough, wait until we actually start to march! It was all about memorization. If you've got that down, your all set. Reminiscing in my last few moments of relaxation, I start to doze off.

"ALRIGHT EVERYONE! BACK ON THE FIELD!!" yelled Spicer.

My eyes shot open. I exasperatedly pulled myself up and made my way back to my spot.. This was going to be a long day, I could feel it. And so could my muscles.


	3. And just when you think its bad enough

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Well I should have seen this coming.

"Everyone grab your towels and bring them back to your spot. We're gonna be doing some _**PILATES.**_" said Spicer.

The word boomed in my thoughts and scrambled my brain.

It's the like the equivalent of a slow painful death. Over. and over. and over again.

But I had to toughen up. "Your a junior now" I thought to myself. "Toughen up, you wimp. Your stronger than that."

I grabbed my towel and made my way back to my spot. I wiped my towel out and sprawled it across the hot asphault. I layed down trying to enjoy the last few seconds of my life before I died... I mean, did pilates. Oh god, here it comes.

"Okay everyone, I would like to introduce something to ya'll called the WARMUP ONE HUNDRED." boomed spicer voice over the speakers.

Upperclassmen, including myself, groaned. I layed there, kinda tuning Spicer out, and reminicing about the last time I did pilates. Last year, on the first day of band camp. My body was having a war against itself. I couldnt laugh, bend, or move without it hurting like crazy.

My muscles never forgave me.

Spicer finished up the demonstration of the monstrosity of the pilate that we were all about to do and stood up.

"Alright everyone, ready?" He asked, like our answer even mattered. "One, two, three, LIFT!"

I lifted my head up, my chin touched my sternum. I activated my core abs to lift my legs off of the ground. I made slow circular motions with my arms. I _tried_ to regulate my breathing.

I looked like an idiot.

Three seconds later, my abs started screaming at me. "Why are you doing this to us!?" I could imagine them asking me. "Because band is abusing you." I would reply.

I snapped out of la-la land. At least I got to take my mind off of the excruciating pain I was feeling, if only for a second..

"Annnd, release.." said spicer calmly. I could hear everyones feet hit the ground like cinderblocks. People were huffing and puffing, and grabbing their abs... or fat, whichever, in pain.

I thought on the positive side for a moment -- hey at least I'll have a nice flat stomach and some sexy abs to look forward to. Scorrre.

We did a few more pilates, not as painful though. I just thought I'd take you step through step on my most agonizing memory.

"Alright, everyone crowd around the tower. We are done for this morning." said spicer letting out an exasperated sigh of relief. All two hundred and more excedingly exasted kids made their way slowly and formed an arc around the tower as Spicer climed up to the drum majors podium and sat down.

There was a lot of shushing, and soon everyone was quiet.

"Well everybody, you've made it through the first day on the outside. And your not dead yet. But let me tell ya'll, especially you freshmen, this isn't even a PORTION of what marching band is really about. This is just the bottom basic. This is how we toughen you up, to get you to the level where you think you can handle anything. Then the real work begins. I just want ya'll to be aware of that. This week will be all about toughening you up. Making a man... or a women out of you. So prepare yourselves. Because it's gonna come at you full force and only you can determine if your gonna let it knock you down."

There was silence. I was absorbing all his strong words. Letting them etch itself into my brain.

"...Any announcments?" he asked? There was none.

All around, people spread their legs shoulder length, put their head down, in parade rest, and made a "sssss" sound. Kinda like a hissing sound. I followed soon after. After a while, the freshman finally got the idea and did it too. Until the whole band was doing it.

"UP TWO HUT!!!" yelled Spicer like a drill instructor.

"HUT!!!" boomed the whole band, or at least the people who knew what they were doing. My legs came together and I was at set.

"Alright goodbye. Go enjoy lunch!" said Spicer. Everone broke off from the arc, and went to gather their things. I walked back to the band hall relieved, and even greedingly pushed people out of the way to get to the air conditioning.

I collapsed on the cold, chilling floor.

Laying, waiting, relaxing.

Re-assembling myself.


	4. Finally Some Relaxation

Lunch time. Ahhh. Finally, a time to relax and be stupid with your friends. I slowly dragged myself over to my locker and took my lunch bag out. I looked in. Egg salad sandwitch, potato salad, mango juice, an apple, and flan. Mmm, well thats interesting. I walked back over to my group of friends, passing my fellow trumpet player, annoying as hell, as he made some unruley comment, but I ignored him. I sat down in my circle and opened my lunchbox as my friends around me were already eating.

"Well Ian, it looks like your alrady halfway done.." I said.

"Mmm-shut-mshjhf-it-mm" He said with his mouth stuffed with food.

"Your gonna get sick if you eat that fast... I'd laugh if you threw up in your clarniet." I chuckled.

"Well I'v got to uphold my fat supply!" He said. I laughed. I see my friend Jeremiah walking through the band hall doors with a bag in his hand, fast food i assume. He walks up to me.

"I got a BACONATOR!" He says with a large smile. My eyes grow wide.

"Your gonna die dude. Anything with that name is meant to clog your arteries and kill you the first time you eat it." I say all seriously.

He opens up the wrapping and exposes the burger. Its dripping with every sort of liquid known to man. Theres like 18 strips of bacon hanging off of it. The bun is even soaked. Its like the king of heart attacks.

I stare at it for a few more seconds, then I look at him with concerned eyes.

"Well it was nice knowin ya." I say, and I go back back to eating my lunch.

"I bet you 20 your gonna get majorly sick if you eat that!" I propose to him.

"Your probably right... but here it goes!" And he takes a huge bite of the monstrosity of a burger.

"Swear to god, if you throw up on the blacktop, im gonna punch you." I threaten jokingly.

The rest of lunch was nice and relaxing. My group and I just talked about the new freshman, and how dumb some of our section leaders are, and how much we hate one of our drum majors. I racked one of my friends by throwing pretzels at his crotch, and jeremiah finished his burger without going into cardiac arrest. But that was about it.

Spicer walks out of his office with a megaphone.

"I hope ya'll enjoyed your lunch but we need to start setting up and getting ready to split into groups for the music learning portion. So everyone finish up and get to where you need to be! Chop chop!"

I clean up my mess, throw away my trash, and put my lunch bag back in my locker. I pull out my trumpet, my music, some valve oil, and my Chop Saver chapstick and head to the band hall where the trumpets are meeting.

"Take a seat everyone!" says our trumpet inscructor, Mr. Yee. He's like half japanese half something else, and he has a chinese symbol tatooed on his arm, so he's pretty damn cool. Not to mention he can play one hell of a trumpet. We sit in chair order, me sitting in the chair 7th from the top. Mr. Yee is walking around handing out region music to each one of us. I get mine and stare at it. Region band has never been one of my strong points. But the music looks easier than last years. I look around at some of the freshman, with looks of udder confusion on their face.

Haha, I think to myself. It reminds of back in the day when I was in their position. I was scared sensless. But then again, Iv come a long way from there.

"Alright everyone, Concert F." instructs Mr. Yee.

This is gonna be a disaster. But we'll see.

I take a deep breath in.

and blow.


	5. It'll take time, but we'll get there

Sounds of dieing animals came from the trumpets in the lower bands. People were out of tune and some just didnt have good tone quality. Ooh, my poor ears. I saw Mr. Yee jump up in a flash and walk over to the bottom band trumpets. We kept repeating the Concert F excersize until it sounded **decent.** I'm booored, I complained to myself while playing the same note over and over again. But then I thought to myself, Spicers words running through my head, "Theres always some way to improve, if they is a mistake, always assume its you, and try to make yourself better." So I thought about all the things I learned and put them to use. I listened to myself and I noticed I was louder than the people around me, so I listened to people on both sides of me or my "trio group" as we like to call it, and balenced myself out between them. Then I noticed I sounded just a teeny bit off, so I adjusted my tuning slide a little. Perfect, I thought to myself.

"Okay, everyone you can stop." said Mr. Yee finally. I lifted the mouthpiece off of my lips and started flapping them just to loosen them up. We did a few more warm-up excersizes like some long tones and decending and accending excersizes, and then we finally started on our region music.

"Alriggghty everyone, we are going to play the first few measures of the first etude. I'll give everyone a minute to look it over.." My eyes scan the page for time changes or accidentals, weird fingerings, and dynamics.

"Alright everyone ready?" Asks Me. Yee. He rasies his hands and conducts us into the first measure. Of course everyone misses the first note, thats expected, and some of the bottom trumpets are having trouble with the rhythm, but for the most part, it wasnt a COMPLETE disaster.

"Okaaay!" says Mr. Yee clapping him hands together, "we're gonna break this down between bands. I want the top band to play it first, then I want the 2nd band to mimic what the first band does, and so on and so forth. Everyone got that?"

"Yes sir!" everyone replys sternly. So, I am in first band this year and I know I probably sound like a big egotistical jerk for saying this but I always feel superior when he relys on everyone to follow up on what the first band does, cause it means you can't get any better than first band so listen to them. I can even feel my head getting big. I should have realized that being in top band was gonna do that to me. I'll have to controll it some how, hah.

"Okay, first band, your up." I raise my trumpet and play along to the best of my ability, maybe making one splurge, here or there. But for it being only the 2nd time playing, it wasn't half bad. The 2nd band followed sounding equally as good, followed by 3rd and 4th who were struggling just a little more. I looked over to my friends in the lower bands and gave them a look of "what the hell was that?!" and they shot me a look of, "shut the hell up." I smiled, and they looked away. Oh they are just sore losers, heehee.

We had made it halfway through the music when Spicer stepped in and told us to start stacking the chairs, because the show music learning portion was about to begin, where we are expected to stand. I stacked my chair up, and positioned my stand where the first band should be. Then I lay down on the cold, chilly floor, feeling every cell and nerve ending in my body sighing in relief. It was great, until one of the guys who stands next to me came over. Now, I dont know what it is about being one of the few girls in the trumpet section, but all the guys either want to pick on you or they think your the coolest. Brendan walked over, and since I was laying down, I was looking up.

"Oh my god, if you would have walked any closer, I would have gotten a peek up your shorts. GROSS." I explained in a discusted face to him.

"Oh really??" He said as he started to inch closer to me.

"AHH stop!! Do you _want_ me to look up your shorts, you perv!?" I screeched. Attracting more attention than needed, some of the 2nd band trumpets started looking over. Brendan started to back away.

"Thats what I thouuuuught..." I said smirking at him. Now he's not one to take my attitude so he started inching closer again, but I jumped up, called him a perv, and grabbed my trumpet. I'v gotten used to it, so I dont take it as badly as I used to. In fact, I try to make him feel equally as awkward now. But then its a big compitition of who can make who feel more awkward. And I stand next to him during all the warm ups, and football games and such. So this is gonna be a loooong marching season.

Spicer walks out and sets up in the middle of the arc. Everyone stops playing and looks directly at him.

"Soooom who practiced this summer??" Asked spicer. Mostly all the top trumpets including myself raised our hands, more than a handful of 2nd banders, a few people in 3rd band, and like one person in bottom band. And now you see why we are placed where we are, haha.

"Alright well everyone is all warmed up. Lets get started then. Take out the opener." instructed spicer.

"We're gonna do a run-through, just to see how ya'll sound." he said. YESSS, i thought to myself, this is gonna sound sooo cool with all the parts in it and whatnot. Spicer turned on the metronome. 1...2...3...4..."DAH DAH DAH" we all said sternly while bringing our horns up at this same time.

We started to play. It sounded like the darkest depths of hell itself. Which is exactly how it should sound. I started to fast-forward about later on in the season and how amazing we are gonna look and sound. And how the audience is gonna go wild. I had a big smile on my face.

This is going to be a kick-arse marching season, i thought to myself.


	6. Losing Control

I'm off in my own world. No one can bring me back now.

I set the scene in my head.

The band is at the palace. There are thousands of people in the stands looking down on us, watching. I look back up at the thousands of eyes watching me. Am I nervous? No way. Stuff like this excites me. A mass of 250 determined band kids march to their opening place. The picture is perfect. All eyes are on the drum major. There is suddenly a hush, and then all falls dead quiet.

I can hear myself breathe. I can hear my heartbeat.

I watch as the majors hands come down and the show begins. A loud chorus of clarinet starts us off, with a low, mysterious melody. The brass starts to move, creating visuals and dancing effects. The high brass and the low brass face eachother, creating a mirror effect.

All of a sudden, the french horns burst in with a creepy dominanting sound that drives you to the edge of your seat, wanting to know whats coming next. Feet start to move, and horns come up. Then the melodic, brassy sounds of the trumpets come in, creating the same eerie effect the french horns did.

There are linears within the sections.

And then the picture meshes together to create one large, eye-consuming picture.

And the next sound you hear rifts the world in two, opening up the depths of hell itself, letting demons infest the earth.

".....sean?...... Sean??............SEAN!!!" I hear a voice shout.

I suddenly realize where I am.

"How long have I been out of it??.." I ask the kid next to me.

"About 5 minutes." He replies. Dang. I knew day-dreaming was gonna get me in trouble one of these days.

"I'm sorry Mr. Spicer, I kinda went off into my own world for a bit there, heh.." I chuckled, trying to make it a joke.

"Well keep your head in the game Sean. Your on my watch right now, and I can't afford for you to miss the information I am teaching you." Spicer said sternly.

"Yes sir. Will do." I replied respectfully.

Spicer walked back into the center of the brass circle.

"Aside from that side show...," he passes a glance at me," I would like to pick up at the Page 5 Impact."

We all bring our instruments up to our faces, breathe together, and blow.

The band hall shakes. People maintain to hold their stance. Spicer is holding ground on his podium bringing his hands up slowly like he's trying to reserect the devil himself from within the ground.

...I'm kidding about the ground shaking. But wouldnt that be cool?!? I can only imagine the woodwinds arent working anything as cool as this. This is what makes me glad to be a brass player.

Faces are turning red, and knees and locking.

"Alright, stop. Don't hurt yourself anyone." Instructs spicer jokingly but seriously at the same time.

My face is hot. That was intense. I cant wait to get that out on the field.

"15 minute break. Fill your water jugs up, relax, whatever. Do what chya gotta do, but be ready in 15 minutes. We're gonna be heading back outside now that the sun is going down." Spicer informs the group.

I sprawl myself across the cold tile floor. A few others do the same.

I can feel the salt of the dried sweat from earlier this morning clinging to my skin.

This is oh so gross. I could use a shower right about now.

At this point, I'm just talking to myself, telling myself pointless things that dont even apply because I complain when I'm uncomfortable.

A few of my trumpet friends walk over and take a seat beside me. I use all the strength in my body to pull myself up. As soon as i'm in the upright position, I let out an exasperated sigh.

"So I'm pretty sure my body is shutting down on me." my friend Dustin says and he tiredly lets his upper body fall to the floor.

"You and me both, bro." I assure him shutting my eyes.

Of course this is how it alwaaaays is on the first few days of band camp. Everyone complains, but then we all get used to it, and toughen up. We've just be whimpin out all summer. Work is a forgeign concept to us as far as we're concerned.

I look at the clock. With just a few minutes left until we have to go back outside, I pull myself up and make my way over to the water fountain. I drink as much water as my body will hold, hoping I can store some of it somewhere and use it for later, like a camel.

First day is almost over.

Bed sounds good right about now.


End file.
